Unofficial Portkey Archive

In response to the question of why I don't post chapters as soon as they're written, the answer is twofold. First, as I'm writing for fun in my spare time, the first draft of whatever comes out of my head is never as good as it needs to be to be posted. I make lots of mistakes that have to be corrected. Also, the first draft is written with an eye toward events, with little care being given to how those events are presented. Subsequent drafts serve to flesh out the bones of the story, putting a more human face on the characters and, I hope, allowing the story to unfold as naturally as I can manage.

The second reason is, in the course of writing the story, I'll come up with something in a later chapter that makes the story better, but which goes against what has already been written. I then have to go back to the early chapters and change the original text, either adding or subtracting, so that everything meshes. I only hope I don't think of something later that clashes with these already posted chapters. But that's the chance I'm taking in order to get this up before HBP comes out.

Another reviewer commented on Hermione's behavior in the classroom flashback. While I changed the scene (obviously), one thing remained as in the book - Hermione is definitely not acting normally. That's what this posting is all about, to explain her actions in a way that also works in the books. Certain clues have already been planted, all taken straight from canon, and given my own personal touch in accordance with my hopes and beliefs. The answer is coming. Stay tuned for developments.

This is the longest chapter yet, and again, it's late. My work schedule was changed unexpectedly over the holiday, and I lost two days that would otherwise have been spent writing. As always, if I missed something in my haste, I hope it won't be so glaring as to impede the story. I'm watching the calendar with one eye while the other remains fixed on my computer screen. Time is against me, but I'm determined to get the last few key chapters up in the next ten days.

There's a lot happening in this installment. Time to get things started.

Sunday morning found the Burrow's inhabitants relaxing from their labors. The wedding was now exactly one week away, and the pressure was building to a peak that threatened to blow the roof off the house like the summit of a volcano. Everyone was using the day to recharge before resuming their respective tasks on Monday morning.

Bill was up in his room (the room that had been his before he left Hogwarts, whereupon it had been appropriated by Percy), catching up on the work he'd brought with him. The scratching sound of quill on parchment was reminiscent of the holiday three years ago when Percy was sequestered in that chamber, laboring over his cauldron bottom report for Mr. Crouch. That was a memory none wished to resurrect, for many reasons. Chief among them was that a rift still existed between Percy and the rest of the family. Percy's zeal to further his career had driven a wedge between him and his parents, especially his father, whom he regarded as an underachiever. Percy had chosen the wrong side when he stood with Cornelius Fudge against those who maintained that Lord Voldemort had returned to the world of the living. When their folly was exposed, Fudge paid for his stubborn blindness by being sacked. Percy survived the purge, but where everyone expected him to demonstrate a due measure of contrition, he responded instead with an even sterner defiance. None knew when, or if, the chasm separating Percy from his family would narrow to the point where it could be leapt and some semblance of normalcy restored to the family. One thing was certain, however. Percy would not be attending his brother's wedding a week from today.

The remaining members of the Weasley family were determined to carry on as best they could under the circumstances. Certain members had taken the upcoming nuptuals as a signal that, though their lives had never been at greater peril in the shadow of the Dark Lord, to give in to despair was to be defeated before the battle was engaged. None embraced this more than Arthur and Molly, who seemed to have rediscovered aspects of their relationship that had been slumbering so long that neither could be condemned for thinking them past resurrecting. But as if to counterpoint the darkness in their lives signified by the rebirth of Voldemort, Arthur and Molly found a new light within themselves to balance that darkness and push it aside. Or it might be more accurate to say that they had found an old light that was not yet extinguished and kindled it to new life.

This morning found the elder Weasleys exploring that new/old territory by the simple act of taking a walk through the countryside. The light of love glowing in their eldest son's eyes had found its reflection in treasured memories of their own early struggles on the matrimonial road. Not wanting to be seen engaging in such behavior in front of their impressionable daughter, they had excused themselves after breakfast and gone off hand-in-hand, looking to Harry much as they must have done when first they had fallen in love at Hogwarts. Harry found it comforting to know that love could endure beyond its simple beginnings in such a manner. He had similar hopes for his and Hermione's union, begun, like the Weasleys', at Hogwarts.

In furtherance of those thoughts, Harry hoped to spend some private time with Hermione today. But Ron and Ginny were having none of it. Ron was determined to get Harry into a game of one-on-one Quidditch in preparation for their upcoming school matches, while Ginny dragged Hermione away to discuss matters which she pointedly told Harry and Ron were "none of your concern."

With Hermione effectively Ginny's captive, Harry reluctantly gave in to Ron's pleading. The two of them made their way up the hill to the paddock, brooms slung over their shoulders. The wind caught at the hem of Harry's robes, which he was wearing for the first time. He'd purposely chosen the rattiest set he owned, to make a better impression on Ron. Upon seeing Harry clad in wizard-fashion, Ron had nodded his approval, saying, "Now you look like a proper wizard, Harry."

At last they stood on the crest of the hill, looking down on the tree-enclosed paddock. As Harry gripped his broom in anticipation, he suddenly remembered his previous visit, and the unexpected visitor who had turned up that evening. This in turn recalled Ron's visit yesterday without Harry, and Ginny's contrived absence. Harry hadn't had the opportunity to ask Ginny if her scheme had born fruit. With Ginny tied up with Hermione, there was only one way to find out.

Clearing his throat as casually as he could, he asked, "So, how'd it go the last time? Sorry I couldn't make it. Did Ginny turn up as she promised?"

Harry was only a little surprised when Ron's ears turned pink.

"No," he said. "Dunno why."

"So you had to practice alone?" Harry prompted. To Harry's growing amusement, Ron's ears turned redder still.

"No," he said again. "Someone turned up unexpectedly."

"Who?" Harry asked innocently, knowing the answer before the question passed his lips.

It was now Ron's turn to sound as casual as he could as he said, "Luna."

"Did she?" Harry replied. "Was she any good? At Quidditch, I mean," Harry said quickly as Ron favored Harry with a curious look. "You said Ginny never turned up, so I only reckoned you let Luna, you know, fly your broom rather than just let it sit there unused. So, er, how was she?"

Ron regarded Harry suspiciously for a moment before shrugging.

"She was okay. I got in a bit of practice, you know, getting my rhythm back, tried a few one-handed blocks, that sort of thing."

"What did you use for a Quaffle?" Harry asked. Hermione had told him that the football Fred and George had once used as a makeshift Bludger was gone, battered beyond repair in their practice sessions. To his surprise, Ron laughed.

"Can you believe it? Luna scooped up some leaves and grass and stuffed them into her book bag. Once she knotted the shoulder straps around it, it made a pretty fair Quaffle."

"Luna had a book bag with her?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I asked her about that," Ron said. "She said she comes up here to read sometimes. She likes the quiet."

"She and Hermione should get on," Harry said.

Ron again reacted by visiting a slightly suspicious look on Harry.

"Is Luna a good flyer?" Harry asked before the suspicion in Ron's eyes could gain a hold on his thoughts.

"Not as good as Ginny," Ron said. "But better than Hermione." Laughing softly, he said, "You remember last year, all those times when you and Hermione teamed up against me and Ginny? Blimey, if there was ever a girl who was meant to keep both feet on the ground, it's Hermione."

Harry's chest spasmed slightly, and Ron looked at him as if something he had eaten at breakfast must have disagreed with him.

"I don't have to ask if you blocked everything Luna threw at you, do I?" Harry said confidently, again diverting Ron's suspicions before they could take root.

"As I said," Ron replied, "she's not that good. But she was flying at such odd angles, I think I must have blocked a shot from a hundred different directions. You know," he said thoughtfully, "some of her moves were so bloody unusual, I reckon someone who's never seen them might be completely flummoxed by them. It made me glad when she said she decided not to try out for Chaser this year. She might've been Ravenclaw's secret weapon. If she'd tried those maneuvers in a match..."

"You think they might be useful for Gryffindor this year?" Harry asked with genuine interest.

"I may not have read the school charter from back to front like Hermione," Ron laughed, "but I'm pretty sure it's against the rules for Gryffindor to field a player who's in another House."

"I didn't mean that exactly," Harry laughed in turn. "But what if we train our Chasers to fly like Luna did? I mean, you and I and Ginny are the only good players we have right now, and we don't know what kind of talent pool we'll find when we go back. It's almost certain we won't be able to replace Fred and George, so it all might come down to our Chasers. If we can't find two players as good as Ginny, it might be the edge Gryffindor needs to take the Cup."

Ron looked as if he had not given this notion serious consideration before now.

"I reckon that might be worth a go," he said at last. In a more determined voice, he said, "Quick as we can pull a team together, first meeting I call this year, I'll take the Chasers aside and see what they think."

"You could ask Ginny straightaway," Harry said. "As the only returning Chaser, it'll be down to her to break in the new members." Ron nodded his agreement. "And it might do to have Luna fly some practices with the Chasers so they can see the moves in action. That'll be easier to follow than those bloody diagrams Wood was always using."

"There's one problem with that, mate," Ron laughed shortly. "It's one thing to use Luna's ideas, but I don't think the captain of the Ravenclaw team will be too keen on someone from his own House coming straight out and helping the enemy right under his nose."

"I dunno about that," Harry returned with a sly smile. "I mean, consider the source. This is 'Loony Lovegood' we're talking about, the bird with radishes hanging from her ears. How seriously do you think they'd take anything that came from her? Oh, they might have asked her to try out right enough, but what does that prove? A team with holes to fill isn't always choosy - look at some of the berks we tested before we found who we were looking for."

A quick glance communicated that neither had forgotten the chaos attendant to Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts a year ago.

"And suppose the Ravenclaw captain does see her flying about during a Gryffindor practice?" Harry continued. "He'll probably laugh his ruddy head off. He'd reckon that we'd have to be mental to take Luna's mad flying seriously."

"That might be okay for practice," Ron said. "But what happens if we decide to use Luna's tactics during the season? What'll he think then?"

"He'll think it's a grand joke," Harry said. "He'll reckon that any team that takes its strategy from Loony Lovegood will be easy pickings. But when the Gryffindor goals start flying past the Ravenclaw Keeper, the joke will be on him, won't it?"

"But what if he files a complaint with Madam Hooch?" Ron said doubtfully.

"And accuse us of what?" Harry returned. "Didn't the Sorting Hat tell us after Voldemort's return (Ron flinched only slightly this time) that the four Houses needed to work together? The rules may prevent students from playing for another House, but there's nothing stopping them from working with them. In fact, from what I've seen, they encourage that sort of thing. Remember in our O.W.L. year, we all formed study groups with students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. We helped each other to do better. Hermione couldn't take their exams for them, but by working with them and showing them how to study properly, she probably helped them to increase their test scores. But Professor McGonagall never accused us of being traitors to Gryffindor because we were helping the other Houses add points to their hourglasses, did she? Just the opposite, she probably thought the better of us because we were working together to help each other."

"Yeah," Ron said, still not entirely convinced, "but that was exams. This is Quidditch."

"But it's all the same," Harry said. "What's the difference if it's an O.W.L. exam or a Quidditch match? Like the Sorting Hat said, it's all about us working together for the greater good. After what happened last year, McGonagall might even give us an award, for 'Special Service' to the school - you know, uniting in the face of adversity, and all that. Years from now, whoever manages to take over where Fred and George left off will be polishing it as part of his detention, along with all the other rubbish in the trophy room. After all the work you put in for Filch in our second year, be only fair that someone else polish something with your name on it, won't it?"

Ron's face was now glowing with excitement.

"Blimey, Harry, I think it might just work! Quick as we get back to the house, I'll talk to Ginny and see if she can arrange for Luna to turn up for a few early practices this year."

"Why not ask her yourself?" Harry said. Ron's ears began to turn pink again.

"Well," he said, "I thought Ginny might have a better chance of persuading her, you know, them being mates and all."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harry said. "That might give Ginny the notion that she has as much authority on the team as you. If she thinks it was her doing that Luna was helping the team, she might start telling you how to run things during practice, and from there it's only a short walk to trying to direct the games from the field. And from one Quidditch captain to another, I don't have to tell you how that worked out last year, do I?"

A tiny electric spark jumped between them as they recalled Cormac McLaggen, whose blatant usurpation of Harry's authority in last year's match against Hufflepuff had resulted in a loss for Gryffindor, and a cracked skull for Harry.

"And if we go on to win the championship," Harry concluded, "Ginny might even want to carry the Cup around the pitch on the victory lap."

From the way Ron's eyes suddenly hardened, Harry knew he had just put the Quaffle through the hoop for the winning goal.

"You're right, Harry," Ron said firmly. "It was my idea to use Luna's flying patterns - well, yours and mine - if Ginny thinks we couldn't have brought it off without her persuading Luna for us, she'll never respect me as team captain. Right," he nodded. "The next time I see Luna, I'll ask her if she'll come fly some practices with us this year. If she agrees, I'll start mapping out a playbook based on how she flew against me yesterday. When Luna demonstrates the moves at Hogwarts in a proper practice, I'll turn the book over to Ginny so she can bring the new Chasers up to scratch - under my direction, of course."

"Now you're thinking like a Quidditch captain," Harry said. Ron beamed.

Harry and Ron practiced loops and dives for an hour before their enthusiasm began to wane and they decided to pack it in for the day. Playing Quidditch one to a side, Ron observed wryly, was about as satisfying as holding hands with yourself was romantic.

"Funny thing," Ron said when he and Harry touched down for the last time. "After flying with Luna, ordinary Quidditch moves seem almost - I dunno - boring."

"That's one word I've never associated with Luna," Harry agreed.

"She's a strange bird," Ron went on as he shouldered his Cleansweep 11 and led the way back to the Burrow. "But she's okay, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said, carefully hiding his triumphant smile. "I know." Suddenly remembering his promise to Hermione, Harry said as casually as he could, "Er - do you think Luna would like to come to the wedding?"

"Hmm?" Ron said distractedly, sweeping away the images of the stadium crowd cheering him as he carried the Quidditch Cup on the victory lap and turning toward Harry.

"I think we should invite Luna to the wedding," Harry said. "We are all friends, aren't we? I mean, she risked her life with us at the Ministry, so I suppose that makes us friends, in an odd sort of way."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "She was spot-on right enough, doing her part with the rest of us. Showed a lot of pluck that time, she did. And look at how you and I became friends with Hermione," he added, recalling the twelve-foot mountain troll he and Harry had fought in the girls' loo in their first year. "I guess danger does bring people together, doesn't it?"

"It seems only right, then," Harry reasoned, "that we invite her. You know, share the good times with the bad and all that."

"Makes sense," Ron nodded. "Do you think she'll come? For all we know, she and her dad will be off chasing a herd of Blibbering Humdingers that day, or a flock, or whatever the buggers hang about in."

"Tell you what," Harry said. "I'm entitled to ask a guest, right? If Luna turns up to do another bit of outdoor reading, I'll ask her to be my personal guest on Sunday."

"Okay," Ron said. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Hang on! My mentioning Luna's dad just now made me remember something my dad said."

"About what?" Harry asked, suspecting what Ron's answer would be.

"Dad said there'd be a write-up on the wedding in all the wizarding publications. It's all because of who Bill's marrying - I mean, it's not like our family's anything special, is it? The Department of International Magical Cooperation had to arrange for Fleur and her family to come over, the same as when everyone came for the Quidditch World Cup. People on the continent are keen to read about a wedding like this, hands across the water, you know. But obviously we can't invite any reporters to the wedding. Be a security nightmare, wouldn't it, checking all those witches and wizards to see if any of them were being controlled by You-Know-Who, if not working for him outright. So the Ministry's set aside an hour on the following Monday for Dad to hold a press conference and tell everyone how the wedding went. I think Mum's having tea in Diagon Alley with the editor of Witch Weekly to tell what kind of dress robes everyone was wearing, what food was served, how smashing the bride looked - you know, all that female rubbish that no wizard gives a rat's arse about."

"That all makes sense," Harry agreed, sensing what Ron was about to say as if he were a Legilimens on the order of Dumbledore.

"Right," Ron said brightly. "But what if someone were able to write a first-hand account of the wedding? Someone we wouldn't have to check out, because she's already on the list?"

"Of course," Harry said, hoping he sounded surprised at hearing his own idea coming from Ron as if it was something new. "If Luna comes to the wedding, she can write up everything she sees and have her dad publish it in The Quibbler."

"You don't think she'd mind?" Ron said uncertainly. Harry laughed.

"Are you serious? That would give her dad an exclusive that he could sell to every other wizarding publication from here to the Americas. It'll be like when I gave Rita Skeeter the exclusive about how I saw Voldemort return, and Luna's dad turned around and sold it to the Daily Prophet for a nice profit."

The slight wince with which Ron reacted again to the sound of Voldemort's name passed as quickly as it had come. "You think she'll do it, then?" he said.

"I can practically guarantee it," Harry said.

"Right," Ron said.

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a distinct note of pleasure in Ron's manner at the inclusion of Luna in the wedding party. Perhaps he was being overly optimistic. Ron might simply be riding the crest of his anticipation of the upcoming Quidditch season. He might also be enjoying the satisfaction of having done something to further the success of the wedding, in which his part had so far been minor. It was a far cry from being starry-eyed, but it was enough to be getting on with for now, Harry decided. Playing matchmaker was a dodgier business than facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt wandless. Best to let things unfold naturally. He'd had enough personal experience with the other side of the coin to know that it led only to disaster. If something was kindled between Ron and Luna on Sunday, or if nothing at all happened, either way was fine with Harry. He hoped for the former, but his hopes notwithstanding, the future, as it ever did, would take care of itself.

The back garden was deserted when Harry and Ron returned. They went up to Ron's room and stowed their brooms before going down to the kitchen for a cold drink. Ron opened the ice box and took out a pitcher of pumpkin juice, only to frown when he peered over the rim.

"There's not enough here for half a glass," he bemoaned. His shoulders sagged. "And I can't blame anyone else but me. I came down for a glass last night, and I didn't pay attention to how near empty the pitcher was when I put it back."

"Hang on," Harry said. "I think I saw your mum put a fresh jug in the cupboard the day I arrived." Harry threw open a cupboard door and smiled. "Told you!" he said as he eased the gallon jug down and onto the counter. But Ron was still not smiling.

"What bloody good is a warm drink on a hot day?" he grumbled.

"You don't know the Chilling Charm?" Harry said in surprise. It was a standard household Charm, the very spell Mrs. Weasley cast regularly on the ice box to keep its contents cold in the hottest weather.

"Household spells are for girls," Ron scoffed half-heartedly, still regarding the jug of warm pumpkin juice with frustrated longing.

"And what are you going to do when you get your own flat?" Harry retorted. "Eat cold beans out of a tin three meals a day, and drink water from your wand?"

"I never thought of it that way," Ron said. "I reckon I should have listened when Mum was showing some spells to Ginny a bit ago."

"Can I borrow your wand?" Harry asked unexpectedly. Shrugging, Ron drew his wand and handed it to Harry. "Hermione taught me the spell late last term," Harry said as he opened the jug and carefully poured its contents into the pitcher. Setting the empty jug aside, he pointed his borrowed wand at the brimming pitcher. A jet of frosty white light leaped forth and enveloped the pitcher. Smiling approvingly, Harry handed Ron's wand back to him and poured two goblets full. Ron sighed happily as the cold liquid ran down his throat.

"Good job, Harry," Ron said as he refilled his goblet. "But there's one thing I don't reckon. Why did you use my wand instead of yours?"

"Because I'm still not allowed to use magic," Harry said, his ever-present frustration modified considerably by his recent accomplishment. "But now, if someone from the Ministry uses the Priori Incantatum on our wands, it'll show that yours was the one that cast the spell in question. And if it's your wand, who's to say that it wasn't you who cast the spell? Only that's what they reckoned when Crouch used my wand to conjure the Dark Mark during the Quidditch World Cup, wasn't it?" he added with a twisted smile.

"Brilliant," Ron said as he took a long pull on his refilled goblet. "Head Boy thinking, I might go so far as to say."

Suddenly serious, Harry asked, "Do you mind that you're not - I mean, you were prefect instead of me..."

"I'm not an idiot, Harry," Ron said with equal seriousness. "No matter what Ginny says. I know you were Dumbledore's first choice to get the badge. Even if I put it out of my mind, I never really thought otherwise. You saw how I was when I was prefect. I didn't exactly distinguish the position, did I?" Harry shrugged uncomfortably, and Ron laughed. "Don't give it a thought, Harry. All water down the plug hole, innit?" His levity dimmed as he added, "Besides, we've got bigger things to think about this year than badges, don't we?"

"You're still coming with me, then?" Harry said. "After we've both been trained up a bit, of course."

"Bloody well right I am!" Ron said.

"You know what Hogwarts' motto is," Harry said. "'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.' Well, I'm about to do more than tickle the bugger. I'm setting to give it a kick in its bloody arse. You come along, you might be throwing yourself straight down the dragon's throat."

"If You-Know-Who wins," Ron said calmly, "where can any of us hide that he won't find us? As Mum keeps going on, nearly the whole family's in the Order of the Phoenix. Even if I'm not yet, I'm still a Weasley. That name may not mean much now, but it's going to. Some day, people are going to speak that name with respect. And I'm damned if I'm going to be the one to dishonor it."

"You could never," Harry said.

Harry extended his goblet. The two friends touched rims and drank.

"There you are!" came a voice from the corridor.

Harry turned to see Hermione entering the kitchen, her bushy hair framing a face aglow with life, and with the pure joy of living. Like Harry, she was wearing wizarding attire for the first time. Her hand-sewn robes were pale blue, and though he still preferred to see her arrayed in Muggle clothing, there was no denying that she looked positively smashing. She threw her arms around Harry and kissed him. Ron was just able to snatch the goblet from Harry's hand before its contents would have erupted all over the kitchen floor.

"What was that for?" Harry asked when Hermione drew back at last. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"No reason," Hermione said, her dark eyes twinkling.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron said as he set his and Harry's goblets (the former now empty) on the counter. "Only I want to ask her something - no, actually, I want to tell her something," he amended, glancing decisively at Harry.

"She had to use the loo," Hermione said. "She'll be down directly."

Ron hurried off, leaving Harry to put the pitcher of pumpkin juice back in the ice box. After draining the contents from his goblet, he set it in the sink, along with Ron's. This done, he turned to Hermione and asked, "How did your morning go?"

"Are you asking me what Ginny and I talked about that she wouldn't tell you when you asked earlier?" Hermione smiled slyly.

"No," Harry answered honestly, having forgotten Ginny's secrecy in this regard. "But as you've brought it up, what did you talk about?"

"Girl stuff," Hermione said evasively.

"Did Luna's name come up?" Harry asked.

Looking surprised, Hermione said, "I think you're developing a real skill at Legilimency."

"More like I've already got Luna on my mind," Harry said.

"You'd better have a good explanation for that," Hermione grinned. "A girl with a suspicious nature could take something like that the wrong way."

Leading Hermione out into the deserted back garden, Harry related his conversation with Ron on the subject of Quidditch and Luna Lovegood. When he was done, Hermione nodded.

"I think you may have something there. That could be just the thing to shake up the Quidditch season at a time when the school might need it more than ever. And that's not even considering the edge it could give Gryffindor. Goodness knows we won't have a team of the same caliber as when you first joined. Ron's doing better at filling Oliver's place at Keeper, but we need two new Chasers to add to Ginny, and Merlin knows where we'll find another pair of Beaters to equal Fred and George - "

Hermione's voice cut off at mention of the twins, and Harry quickly steered the topic back onto safer ground.

"With so many students not returning," he said, "I don't think any team will be as good as it would like to be. At least it'll be a balanced field. Everyone will be terrible in one way or another. But if we can apply Luna's unusual tactics properly and shape them into a real strategy, I think Gryffindor can dominate the field all the way."

"Just so you remember not to take matters too seriously," Hermione said. "Quidditch is supposed to be a diversion from our worries, not another one to add to the mix."

"Tell Ron," Harry said with a short laugh. "This will be his first and only year as Quidditch captain, and he's determined to leave his mark. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already owled Charlie in Romania to tell him. Charlie helped Gryffindor win a few Cups in his day, and he was Quidditch captain himself. It wouldn't surprise me if Charlie turned up for the last game of the season, just to see Ron hold the Cup over his head when he flies his victory lap."

"I'd be barmy to take that bet," Hermione giggled. "I saw Ron send Pigwidgeon off the day we arrived, and he's not back yet. That argues that it must have been a long journey Ron sent him on."

"Blimey," Harry sighed, "this could have been a smashing year if it wasn't for Voldemort mucking things up."

"It can still be a smashing year," Hermione said. "For all that's happened to us, we're still lucky in many ways."

"When I look into your eyes," Harry said, "I feel like the luckiest bloke who ever lived."

Their lips met gently, the kiss lasting only a moment. Harry drew back and stared into Hermione's soft brown eyes.

"I love you," he said softly. "I love you for everything you are, and for everything you're not. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense," Hermione said.

"What do you want to do with the rest of the day?" Harry asked.

"I know we should take the time to work," Hermione said. "But I don't feel like it right now. I'd rather we just spend some time together, doing nothing. Someone once said, 'We never have enough time to do all the nothing we want to do.' Today is going to be our day to do nothing."

Harry wrapped his hand around Hermione's, and together they wandered the Weasleys' back garden, taking in simple details they had seen so often but never really noticed. They lingered at the edge of the pond, watching the frogs sit patiently until a fly came within striking distance of their long, darting tongues. Hermione laughed out loud when a frog stabbed a fly with a speed that reminded her of Harry making a spectacular catch of the Golden Snitch. Harry's answering laugh was born of the sheer delight of seeing Hermione's normally complex mind at ease for a rare moment. It was a moment, alas, to be repeated too few times between now and the end of the school year - and one which he feared would become altogether extinct shortly thereafter. This realization made him all the more determined to savor such interludes now, that he might relive them as fond memories in the dark days ahead.

The Burrow grew smaller as they approached the end of the Weasleys' property. They sat on the back hedge, watching an occasional gnome emerge on a foraging expedition. The tiny, potato-headed creatures would eye the two humans warily before scurrying away, leaving the vegetable patch unmolested.

At length Harry swung Hermione's legs over the hedge, and they sat with their backs to the Burrow, their eyes sweeping the open country lying peacefully around them. The tranquility of their surroundings was disturbed unexpectedly when Harry began to laugh quietly, which vibrations were conveyed to Hermione as she sat pressed against him. Hermione lifted her head from Harry's shoulder, where she had been resting comfortably, her thoughts wandering through Elysian fields, and looked up questioningly. Seeing Hermione's inquiring expression, Harry laughed again.

"I was looking at the spot where Ron and I were playing Quidditch this morning," he said.

"I don't remember anything particularly funny in what you told me earlier," Hermione said. "Or did you leave something out and only just remembered it now?"

In fact, Harry had omitted a small detail in relating his and Ron's time in the paddock, though he hadn't meant to. At least, it had not been a conscious omission. If he had unconsciously left this small item out, that was not surprising as he reflected on it now. Seeing as Hermione had asked him directly, he realized that the time for full disclosure had come.

"I asked Ron how Luna was as a flier," Harry said.

"And what did he say?" Hermione asked, noting Harry's pause.

"He said she wasn't as good as Ginny..." Harry said, his voice trailing off.

"And?" Hermione prompted.

"He said she wasn't as good as Ginny," Harry said hesitantly, "but she was loads better than you."

"Better than me?" Hermione echoed.

"He remembered last year, when you and I teamed up against him and Ginny all those times. He said it was obvious from the way you flew that if anyone was born to keep both feet on the ground, it was you."

Hermione's smile, which had been in slow retreat, was now completely gone. She was not exactly frowning, but her expression was as serious as Harry had seen it since their meeting at the Dursleys two days ago.

"Ron didn't know what he was saying," Harry said soothingly.

"Of course he didn't," Hermione agreed, her smile returning as a pale shadow of its former glory. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Harry said. "It's a very big something. It's something you keep pretending isn't there, and the more you pretend, the bigger it gets. If you don't face it, it'll keep on growing until it eats you up inside."

"I know you mean well, Harry," Hermione said. "But I already told you, it hurts too much to think about it."

"Will putting it off make the pain any less?" Harry countered. "It'll only keep getting worse, and you know it. You have to talk to them, Hermione."

"I can't," Hermione said. "Not yet."

"When?" Harry asked, hoping that he sensed a glimmer of hope in Hermione's concession.

"I don't know."

"Then I'll have to keep at you until you do know," Harry said. "I can't do anything else. It's like all the times when you got on my wick for something I did, or something I didn't do that I should have done. You were doing it out of love. I have to do the same thing now. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "I understand."

"Then I won't say any more now," Harry said. Immediately he felt Hermione's tense form relax against him. "But I won't give up."

A genuine smile spreading across her face, Hermione said, "You wouldn't be Harry Potter if you did. That's one of the things I love about you."

They sat in silence for a time, then Harry said unexpectedly, "So, what time's the party on Thursday?"

Hermione jumped as if stung by a bee. Rounding on Harry, she stammered, "How do you know - "

Hermione's words choked off, her startled expression morphing into one of self-rebuke, mixed with a grudging appreciation.

"You tricked me!"

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked, his green eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"Not as much as I did a moment ago," Hermione returned, her reproving eyes undone by her smile. "You caught me off my guard. I'm more angry at myself than I am at you. A fine help I'll be on the Horcrux quest if I can be trapped that easily. I might as well carry a flask of Veritaserum in my pocket and swig it every hour the way Crouch did Polyjuice when he was impersonating Moody."

"I'm sorry, honestly," Harry said, and his eyes were sincere, their former twinkle gone. "I'd been wondering what you and Ginny could have been talking about that you wanted to keep from me. I knew the whole conversation couldn't have been about Luna, especially after Ginny told me it was 'none of my concern' when I asked. With my seventeenth birthday only four days away, a party seemed the best answer." A warm smile replaced his contrite expression as he confessed, "I've never had a proper party. The Dursleys always pretended I'd never been born, but just dropped out of thin air like a Biblical plague. Even after I started at Hogwarts, I never managed to leave Privet Drive until my birthday had passed. The closest I ever came to a celebration was the time you and Ron and Hagrid and Sirius all sent me birthday cakes. That was the best birthday I ever had. I might have been alone, but I knew you were all with me in spirit. That meant a lot."

"We'll be with you in more than spirit this year," Hermione promised. Her voice fell as she said, "I only wish Sirius was here. Nothing would have made him prouder than to see you turn seventeen."

"I miss him more every day," Harry said. "More than I imagined I could. I knew him for such a short time, but I feel like he was always a part of my life, even if most of that time he was locked up in Azkaban. Now he's really gone, and it's like I've lost someone I've known forever, but who I never really knew, you know? But I know that wherever he is, he's with me in spirit. I can feel him sometimes, like he's so close I can almost touch him."

Hermione looked at Harry with renewed interest. "Harry? Do you mean that literally, or are you just saying that because you miss him so much?"

"Honestly? I dunno. I used to reckon it was all in my head. Remus is sure that Sirius died when he fell through the archway in the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore pretty much said the same thing, even if he didn't use the same words. But really, does anyone know what's really behind that veil? I mean, if no one who's gone through it has ever come back, how do they know that there isn't something on the other side? And it seems to me that anyplace someone can go, they can come back from. Just because they haven't done yet, that doesn't mean they won't someday."

"I agree," Hermione said, surprising Harry. "In the absence of cold, hard facts, it seems a bit unscientific to declare something so when no one really knows for certain."

"I thought science and magic didn't mix," Harry said, suddenly enjoying playing devil's advocate, even if his heart was allied with her reasoning.

"On a certain level, magic is science, and vice-versa," Hermione said. "They're both mechanics of the universe, each working in its own way to keep the cosmic wheel turning. The universe operates according to its own set of rules. We don't have to understand them to acknowledge that they exist. Do you know that, for all that Muggle science has accomplished, all the secrets it's uncovered, we still don't know precisely what fire is? Oh, we know how to kindle it and how to use it, but the fact remains that we simply don't know what it is. Does that ignorance keep us from using it to cook our food and warm our homes? Does our lack of understanding make that fire any less hot if we stick our hand into it?

"But that still doesn't answer the question. Scientists can give conclusive proof that there's no such thing as magic. By contrast, superstitious Muggles will say that anything that can't be explained away must be magic. If the laws of science can't explain fire, does that automatically mean that fire is magic?"

Hermione looked up into the sky, nodding toward a bird soaring gracefully on a thermal.

"For the longest time, people looked at birds and wondered how they were able to fly. Today we have the laws of aerodynamics all set down, but the birds didn't need our understanding in order to fly. They carried on for millions of years, not caring what we knew or didn't know. There are still things we don't understand about the world around us. Until the day when we find the answers, all we can do is accept the evidence of our eyes and supply the missing pieces as best we can. And until we have the last piece to complete the puzzle, who's to say what the finished picture really looks like?"

"Are you saying that you think Sirius could be alive?" Harry said.

"Not exactly," Hermione answered carefully. "I'm saying that we don't know one way or the other, therefore I'm not prepared to say that he's either dead or alive."

"He has to be one or the other," Harry said reasonably.

"Does he?" Hermione countered. "Do we really understand what life and death are that we can make such a statement?"

"It seems simple enough to me," Harry shrugged. "If you're breathing, you're alive. If you're not, you're dead."

"Do you remember Gollum's riddle?" Hermione asked unexpectedly.

"What?" Harry said, caught off his guard in much the same manner as Hermione had been at his birthday question.

"In The Hobbit," Hermione said, "Gollum asked Bilbo to solve certain riddles. One of them went, 'Alive without breath, as cold as death.' Do you remember what the answer to that riddle was?"

Harry thought for a moment, remembering when he'd read the Lord of the Rings books in the library (he couldn't check them out because the Dursleys had never signed the form to allow Harry to have a library card).

"A fish," Harry said. Hermione nodded.

"Is a fish alive?" she asked.

"Until it's caught and popped in the oven, I reckon it is," Harry smiled.

"Do fish breathe?"

"Well," Harry answered, "they breathe water. I should know, I breathed it myself when I was in the lake during the Triwizard Tournament."

"But during that time," Hermione said, "you weren't using your lungs, were you? Until the Gillyweed wore off, you were filtering water through a set of gills."

"Right," Harry said. "And bloody cold water it was, too - well, you should know, you were there."

"Then you were like Gollum's riddle," Hermione said. "Alive without breath, as cold as death."

"There's more to life than breathing," Harry said. "My heart was still beating. It was never beating faster than when Krum nearly bit you in two with that ruddy shark's head of his," he recalled, a momentary chill playing along his spine.

"There are millions of microscopic creatures that live perfectly well without a heart," Hermione said unflappably.

"I should know better than to get into this kind of debate with you," Harry grinned. "I can't win and I know it."

"This isn't a debate," Hermione said. "It's not about who's right or wrong. Just the opposite, it's about there being no right and wrong to begin with."

"I wouldn't use that logic on the N.E.W.T. examiners next June," Harry grinned more broadly.

"So, you'll admit that we've settled nothing as a result of this discourse?" Hermione asked.

"That sounds about right," Harry said.

"Then I've made my point," Hermione smiled. "There are some things that can't be settled by logic and reason. They have to be sorted out in the human heart. Do you feel in your heart that Sirius isn't really dead?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said truthfully.

"That uncertainty itself is enough to be getting on with," Hermione said. "Until we know one way or another, then either way might be true. Sirius might be gone forever. Or he might be standing next to us right now, unseen and unheard, but no less real for that."

"A bloke's brain can overheat thinking too much," Harry said.

"That sounds like something Ron would say," Hermione smiled.

"Has said," Harry confirmed. "On more than one occasion."

"Then let's give our brains a rest, shall we?" Hermione suggested.

"How?" Harry asked, eyeing Hermione with an anticipatory gleam in his eye.

"By doing something that doesn't require thinking, only feeling."

"I can think of one thing straight off that fits that category," Harry said.

"Care to demonstrate, then?" Hermione said.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Harry pulled Hermione to him and kissed her. They melted into each other, their hearts beating ever faster as their brains turned light from lack of oxygen. When they parted, Harry's eyes were slightly out of focus. His glasses had been knocked askew, but readjusting them to their proper place did little to alleviate the problem. Sighting through his lenses, Harry saw that Hermione's eyes were as vague and dreamy as his felt.

"I think the experiment was a success," Harry said. "I can't even remember my own name just now."

"I think it's Howard something," Hermione said distantly. "Or Herman."

"Close enough," Harry said, leaning close to send his few remaining brain cells spinning into oblivion to join their brothers.

A sound in the distance brought them out of their romantic stupor. They looked as one in the direction of the Weasleys' paddock.

"Is Ron practicing Quidditch this morning?" Harry asked no one in particular.

"No," Hermione answered. "He was in the house when we left, remember, looking for Ginny. Even distracted as we were just, I don't think he could have got by us unnoticed. Besides," she added as she continued to concentrate on the sounds that had interrupted her and Harry's 'scientific pursuits,' "those noises are like nothing I've ever heard on a Quidditch pitch."

"I've heard sounds like that on a Quidditch pitch," Harry said. "But it wasn't during practice." Hermione looked at Harry curiously, and he elaborated, "It was when Oliver Wood was seeing this girl from Hufflepuff. I saw the two of them sneaking off one day after practice, and I followed out of curiosity." When Hermione responded with a slightly disapproving look, Harry said, "I was only eleven. I didn't know what I was hearing. But I found out in a hurry."

"Now who could be - " Hermione began, and suddenly her eyes went round. "No, it couldn't possibly! Could it?"

"What are you - " Harry's voice cut off as abruptly as Hermione's had. "No! Blimey! That's - that's - "

"It's none of our concern is what it is," Hermione said primly. "I think we'd best be getting back to the house."

"I think you're right," Harry said as he swung Hermione over the hedge and set her on her feet. As they set off for the Burrow, Harry asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "Should we tell Ron?"

"Merlin's beard, no!" Hermione replied in a low hiss. "What would we tell him, anyway? 'We heard odd sounds coming from the paddock, Ron, but it's nothing to get fussed about, we just think it was your parents, having a quick shag.' He'd ruddy well keel over on the spot, and then who'd captain the Quidditch team this year?"

"Blimey," Harry said, shaking his head. "I never imagined..."

"What," Hermione replied, "you never imagined married couples carrying on like that? I suppose you think Dudley just turned up on the Dursleys' doorstep in a basket, the way you did?"

"You know what I mean," Harry said.

"Just because a couple has been married for a long time," Hermione said, "that doesn't mean the romance has gone out of their life. If love is strong and true, it increases with time.

Harry shook his head again. He'd had no trouble imagining Bill and Fleur sharing a bed after their ceremony, shagging each other until they passed out from exhaustion (a scene he'd imagined a bit too often of late, what with Hermione gently but firmly rebuffing his every advance in no uncertain terms). But Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?

"Harry?"

Harry blinked. He recognized the tone of Hermione's address. He'd heard it before. It was the voice she used when she'd already called his name and received no response.

"Yeah?" Harry said, trying to sound as though nothing was amiss.

"Is there something on your mind?" Hermione asked. "Something you want to tell me?"

Harry thought quickly. "Uh, yeah. Since I know about the party, do you think you could brew up a Forgetfulness Potion so I won't spoil things? It's better if the subject of a surprise party is genuinely surprised, don't you think? And it's probably safer to use a more controlled method like a potion than attempt a Memory Charm."

"I suppose I could do that," Hermione agreed. "And you're right that it would be a safer road than trying to modify your memory with an Obliviate spell. But I think it would be better if you tried a simpler method first. I remember you once told me that you asked Hagrid why wizards kept their presence a secret from Muggles. He said it's because they'd be wanting magical solutions to every little problem. I think we should take a leaf from Hagrid's book here and try another way. A non-magical way."

"What way?" Harry asked.

"Just don't think about it," Hermione smiled.

"That's your answer?" Harry replied with a short laugh. "Don't think about it? All I've done for the last two months is think about turning seventeen so I can do magic. How can I suddenly not think about it?"

"But you've just said it," Hermione said. "Just keep thinking about the deeper aspects of your birthday and you'll have no time to dwell on something as trivial as a party. It's not like there's nothing else to do that day. Or have you forgotten already?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "I intend to be first in line at the Apparation Test Center on Thursday morning."

"There you are!" Hermione said triumphantly. "We still have loads to do between now and then, including a few Apparation practice sessions. We want you up to scratch the first time, don't we?"

In a quieter voice, Harry asked, "How did Ron do on his test?"

Harry knew that, while he was languishing for three long weeks at Number four Privet Drive, Ron and Hermione had gone off to London together to get their Apparation licenses the day after their return from Hogwarts. Ron and Harry had originally agreed to take their tests together, but upon returning to the Burrow, Ron had opted to qualify as soon as possible.

"I know we were going to get our licenses together," he'd written in a letter delivered shortly after by Pigwidgeon. "But after what happened at Hogwarts, I reckoned I'd better get my license as soon as I could, so I'd be better prepared in case You-Know-Who attacked again. I hope you don't mind."

In fact, Harry understood completely, and told Ron so in his reply, which he sent that night via Hedwig.

Hermione's visit had been a mere legal formality. She'd already passed her practical test in Hogsmeade, but she had to present her examiner's certification at the Ministry (and pay the required fee) before the Department of Magical Transportation could issue her an official license. Hermione's parents had driven all the way to the Burrow to pick up Ron and take both of them to London. Hermione's letter (sent courtesy of Pigwidgeon) had gone on about how Mr. Weasley had examined every inch of the Grangers' motor car (all the while Mrs. Weasley kept an equally intent eye on her husband, who had not given up on the prospect of replacing his lamented Ford Anglia with another Muggle vehicle) before Ron was able to duck into the back seat and make his escape.

After securing their licenses, they had Apparated back to the Burrow for a short visit (Ron accepting his parents' congratulations with pink-eared delight) before Hermione popped back to London to ride home with her parents. It would be her last opportunity to spend time with them before (so she then believed) she went off with her two friends to find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes. Her parents knew nothing about this, of course. Did they suspect that their daughter's visit might be the last time they would see her alive? If they were as smart as Harry suspected (Hermione's brains and cleverness must surely be inherited), they must have picked up some signal that this might be their final goodbye. That was why Harry had not begrudged Hermione this time with them, though it meant he must remain with the Dursleys longer than he would have liked.

Hermione answered Harry's question much as he expected. "He was a bit nervous," she said, speaking guardedly, as if Ron could hear her all the way across the span between the vegetable garden and the back door. "He only just missed passing, though maybe he didn't do quite as well as during the test we both took in Hogsmeade, you know, when I got my certification. He was so desperate to pass, I think he tried a bit too hard, actually. The examiner was about to send him off and have bash the next day, but Ron asked for another go, and I suppose she couldn't resist those big, pleading eyes. You know the look I'm talking about," she said with a soft laugh.

"The one he always uses on his mum when he knows she's about to go off on him?" Harry grinned. Hermione nodded. "So, he did okay on his second try, then?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "It was only nerves, as I thought. I calmed him down with a bit of encouraging talk. That and a neck rub."

"Neck rub?" Harry said, eyeing Hermione shrewdly. "I dunno if I like you putting your hands on another bloke like that, even if he is my best mate."

Hermione was surprised for a moment before seeing the twinkle in Harry's eyes.

"From now on," she said, "the only body parts I massage will be yours. Besides," she laughed, "you know Ron and I always rub each other the wrong way."

Speaking more seriously, Harry said, "You know Ron fancied you for a long time. And I know there's a part of you that fancied him back."

"That's all past," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly.

"I know that," Harry said, "and so do you. But what about Ron? I mean, some flames never really die. They just simmer for a bit, waiting to flare up again."

"Ron knows you and I are together now," Hermione said. "He knows that we share more than just a fancy. We're all still friends, the three of us. More than friends, come to that, given all we've shared. He'd never do anything to jeopardize that."

Harry nodded, but almost at once his head jerked back over his shoulder in the direction of the wooded countryside behind them.

"What Ron needs is his own full-time neck-rubber. Someone who'll rub him the right way for a change."

"Do you think Luna is that someone?" Hermione asked, her eyes flickering back over the hedge for a moment before returning to Harry.

"It's hard to tell with Luna," Harry said. "And even harder to tell with Ron, come to that. They both have odd ways of showing their feelings, don't they? I suppose that's something they have in common. But blimey, it sure makes for a bumpy road, doesn't it?"

"What's meant to be, will be," Hermione said. "You and I are living proof of that."

"There were a few bumps on that road, too, as I recall," Harry said.

"There always are," Hermione said. "The road to love is never smooth. If it was an easy journey, it wouldn't be worth the bother. The greatest treasures are the ones we fight hardest to win."

"I'd fight an army of Death Eaters riding Hungarian Horntails to keep you," Harry said. "I never imagined I could treasure anyone as much as I do you."

"I feel the same way," Hermione said. "Nothing and no one can ever keep us apart. Not even Voldemort himself."

Harry and Hermione had just rounded the frog pond when they heard a loud banging sound. They looked in the direction from which the sound had come, and they saw Ginny racing toward them, her red hair flying behind her like the tail of a roan filly at full gallop. She had bolted through the kitchen door in such haste that it had slammed shut behind her with a report like a wizard cracker going off.

"Harry!" Ginny gasped as she drew nearer. "Hermione! You've got to stop him!"

"Stop who?" Harry said in alarm. Had the impossible happened and Voldemort discovered the location of the Burrow? But Ginny's answer was not so dire, though the alarm in her eyes was no less genuine for that.

"Ron," she panted, breathing heavily as she reached Harry and Hermione. She was doubled up now, clutching a stitch in her side.

"What's he done?" Harry said.

Struggling to breathe more slowly, Ginny said, "He's up in the twins' room, where you and Hermione have been practicing, you know. He's been going through some of your spellbooks, Harry - the ones you're using in your Auror training."

"What's he doing with those?" Harry said, his alarm rising to meet Ginny's on the same level of intensity. "He's not allowed!"

"I told him that," Ginny said. "I told him that only someone who's declared as an Auror was allowed to read those books, just as we're none of us allowed to learn from Hermione's books on Healing. But he wouldn't listen. He says if he's to be prepared to face You-Know-You, he needs to learn the spells that will let him give the best account of himself."

Harry recalled his talk with Hermione on the subject of Ron's qualifications to accompany them on the Horcrux Quest. Indeed, Ron had expressed his own doubts more than once as to whether he would be up to scratch. Harry suddenly remembered the new confidence he'd seen shining in his friend's eyes after their talk this morning, Ron's declaration that the Weasley name would some day command respect, and his vow that he would not be the one to dishonor it. Mixing everything together, it appeared that Ron was taking matters into his own hands, trying to improve his skills in preparation for the dark mission awaiting him. But the spells in Harry's books were far in advance of anything either of them had encountered in their ordinary Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Even Harry could not practice them until he'd completed his preliminary classes on theory and mental discipline. If Ron made the slightest mistake with even the most basic spells in the early chapters -

"He'll blow up the house!" Harry said in horror. "We've got to stop him!"

They bolted toward the house, Ginny falling behind as renewed pain lanced through her ribs.

"Is it really as bad as all that, Harry?" Hermione gasped between panting breaths.

"You've seen some of the spells we learnt from our Theory of Dark Magic book in Defense Against the Dark Arts last year," Harry said. "Snape wouldn't let us practice them, remember? He said we needed to master the pronunciations and the wand movements to the finest degree, and learn to focus our minds properly. The slightest variation can turn everything arse over kettle. He said we'd need all year to get those points down before we actually start using the spells this year."

"Ron could've learnt them last year, couldn't he?" Hermione asked in a hopeful voice.

"There's a reason Ron didn't qualify for the Auror classes I'm taking," Harry said, stating what they both already knew. "His exam marks showed that he didn't have the full mastery he needed to do the spells. If he tries them now, without having learnt the fundamentals - "

They reached the back door and jerked it open. Hermione looked back to see where Ginny had gone. To her surprise, Ginny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Ginny got to?" she said bewilderedly.

"We don't need her," Harry said. "We know where Ron is."

They ran through the kitchen and mounted the stairs, taking them three at a jump. When they reached the door to the room formerly occupied by Fred and George, Harry tried the door handle, receiving the results he expected.

"Locked," he grunted. "No surprise there. Can you Apparate inside?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating.

"No," she said. "I can't see a thing past the walls. The personal wards Fred and George erected when this was their room are still too strong."

"Can you open the lock, then?" Harry asked desperately, every passing second feeling like an hour. Hermione nodded confidently.

"Whatever locking spell Ron's used," she said, drawing her wand, "I can counter it. I worked over the holiday on mastering the kind of spells Bill uses when he breaks into old tombs protected by magic. I figured they'd come in handy against the sort of places where Voldemort's likely to have hidden his Horcruxes."

"It's all yours," Harry said, stepping aside. Hermione pointed her wand at the lock, but before she could utter the first syllable of her incantation, an excited voice cried out from behind her.

"Stop!"

Harry and Hermione spun about to see Ginny zooming up the stairs toward them on a broomstick! She navigated the narrow stairwell with a skill that Harry admired even under such dire circumstances; she twisted about and landed in front of them.

"I had to catch you," she said. "I couldn't run another step, so I ducked into the broom shed. Good job I did, too."

"Why?" Harry asked, one eye on Ginny, the other on Hermione's wand that was still pointed at the lock.

"Fred and George placed security spells on their room," Ginny explained. "They added them just after Mum got on them about starting Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and began confiscating everything she could find."

"I didn't notice anything unusual when Hermione and I were in here earlier," Harry said.

"You wouldn't," Ginny said. "The door locks automatically to keep anyone from coming in, but it doesn't stop anyone inside from walking out. If anyone tries to force the door from outside..."

"What would have happened if I'd used the unlocking spell just now?" Hermione asked with a touch of dread. She wondered if she'd have ended up doing more damage than they were trying to prevent Ron from doing.

"I dunno exactly," Ginny said. "But Fred told me in confidence that anyone trying to open that door without the exact counter-spell would be for it. I didn't ask him what would happen, but the way he talked, I could tell it wouldn't be pleasant."

"Then how are we going to get in?" Harry said helplessly. "Even Apparating, there's no time for us to go fetch them from Diagon Alley to perform the counter-spell."

"We don't need to," Ginny said, a hard smile forming on her flushed face. "I already know the counter-spell."

"How?" Harry could not help himself asking.

"I used a set of Extendable Ears that Mum had binned," Ginny said. "She was so busy yelling at Fred and George, she never spotted that there was one less set when she vanished them later. As for them," she nodded meaningfully toward the twins' door, "they never reckoned that someone might use their own invention against them, so they never safeguarded their room with an Imperturbable Charm until it was too late."

Harry was now more certain than ever that Fred and George had met their match in their sister. But Ginny's answer brought a question to his mind, which he now voiced.

"If you know the counter-spell, why did you have to run and get us?"

"Because I'm not allowed to do magic," Ginny said in the same irritated tone Harry had used so often of late. "I went to get Bill, but he's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on his bloody room so no one can disturb him while he's working. My hands didn't even make a sound when I pounded on his door, same as when I tried Ron's. It was like punching air. The whole ruddy house could fall down and he wouldn't know it until the ghoul fell down through the ceiling and landed in his lap. And that might happen unless we get inside here straightaway!"

"Tell me the incantation," Hermione said. Ginny repeated the complex words three times until Hermione was certain she'd fixed them exactly in her mind. Ginny warned that any variation would result in a backfire. There was also a tricky wand movement involved, which turned out to be an elaborate F and G inscribed in the air in time to the words. When Hermione executed the spell, no one was surprised when the door opened at once.

They discovered that they had arrived just in time. Ron had his wand out, transcribing a pattern in the air while he looked over his shoulder, reading from one of Harry's books, his lips moving silently and his brow furrowed under his shock of red hair. Wasting no time on a verbal warning, Harry lunged and snatched Ron's wand from his hand. Ron's head jerked up in surprise.

"Harry! What the bloody hell? How did you get past - "

Tossing Ron's wand aside unceremoniously, Harry caught up his book from the table and peered at the page Ron had been reading. It was a chapter near the back of the book. Hermione saw Harry's lightning scar crinkle, and she edged over and peered at the page over his shoulder.

"I've never seen that spell," she said.

"I reckon not," Harry replied tersely. "It's not one we'd have had in Defense Against the Dark Arts, even back when Crouch was teaching us all those sixth-year spells while he was disguised as Moody. It's one of the Dark Curses I was telling you about. It didn't even turn up in Snape's class last year."

"What does it do?" Hermione whispered.

"When it's done properly," Harry said, lightly stressing the last word, "it turns human bones into something like pudding."

"Too right," Ron said, eyeing Harry somewhat defensively. "Just the spell to use on a Death Eater looking to do me in."

"Except that you didn't have the wand movements right," Harry said in an ominously quiet voice.

"I didn't?" Ron said somewhat guiltily. Then he shrugged. "Well, what could have happened?"

"What could have happened," Harry said, his jaw muscles tightening, "is the spell wouldn't have been focused into a narrow beam like it's supposed to. The magical energy would have been released in a broad wave, like water pouring through a dam that's split open."

"What would that have done?" Hermione asked, though from the apprehension in her eyes, she must have had a good notion.

"It would have liquefied the house from top to bottom," Harry said. "The entire Burrow would have collapsed like a tower of Exploding Snap cards, except without the explosion. It just would have quietly slipped away into a giant puddle, smothering everything and everyone inside it."

Ron's blue eyes were now perfectly round. "I - I didn't - "

"Bloody right you didn't!" Harry snapped, angrily slamming the book on the table with a thunderous report that brought a startled gasp from Hermione. "What in the bleedin' hell were you playing at? Don't you understand how dangerous these spells are?"

"I'm sorry," Ron said contritely. "I thought I could learn something that would help me to help you when we go off next year."

"We had an agreement," Harry said, controlling his voice by pure force of will. "I learn the spells properly, at Hogwarts, from teachers who've used them before. Later, I'll decide which ones I can safely teach Hermione, who'll then teach them to you while I'm off learning some new ones. It's not that hard to understand, is it? I reckoned even a first-year couldn't muck up something that simple."

Ron's face was growing red, signaling that his Weasley anger was quickly rising to the surface.

"Don't talk to me like that! I'm not an idiot, you know!"

"You were doing a pretty fair imitation when I came in!" Harry said grindingly. "There's a reason you didn't get a set of these books yourself this year, you know."

"So I'm too stupid to learn spells this advanced, is that it?"

"I never said that," Harry replied in a more subdued voice. "But the fact is - "

"The fact is, I didn't get the grades I needed to qualify as an Auror, right? Just say it, Harry. I'm not good enough. Go ahead, say it!"

Hermione stepped between Harry and Ron, her eyes pleading. "Ron, Harry never said that. No one ever said you're not good enough."

"Bill was," Ron said, jerking his head in the general direction of the room where his oldest brother was working. "Bill was always good enough. He was Head Boy, wasn't he? First child off to Hogwarts, and what does he do? Gets twelve ruddy O.W.L.'s, setting the standard the rest of us were expected to match. Mum and Dad always held him up like a beacon for all of us to follow. Only I never quite measured up, did I?"

"You were a prefect," Hermione argued. But Ron shook his head.

"You know as well as I do that Dumbledore only gave me the badge because Harry had too much on his plate. Every moment I wore it, I always knew it was Harry's by rights. I was only borrowing it. I dunno why they let me keep it at all after that first year. I don't have to tell you what a joke I was then, do I? And I wasn't much better last year."

"You got the badge because you deserved it," Harry said, his anger now evaporated. He hesitated before adding, "I was jealous of you all that first year, you know. I thought I wasn't as good as you because you'd got the badge and I hadn't."

Harry carefully avoided saying that he'd thought all along that the badge should have been his. He knew Hermione had felt the same way. He remembered how thrilled she'd been when she came in and saw the badge in his hand, and her shock and disbelief when Harry promptly handed the badge to Ron.

Ron was hanging his head now, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said, and Harry knew he meant it now. "For everything. I know I'm not good enough to be an Auror - no, it's okay," he added quickly, his smile slowly returning, though it bore very little humor. "Like I said before, I'm not stupid. I know not everyone can do that sort of thing. Even Bill never managed, and he's the best in the family at everything. And it's not like I really want that sort of life, you know? I mean, look at Moody. How many blokes have tried to do him in? And how close have they come to succeeding, what will all the pieces he's missing. Who needs that rubbish?"

Both Harry and Hermione knew that Ron was not being entirely truthful. They'd seen the hurt look on his face three years ago when the false Moody had told his two closest friends that they had the makings of an Auror, seen the desperate longing in his eyes to hear that he was likewise good enough to become one of that elite fraternity along with Harry and Hermione.

Hermione placed her hands on Ron's arms and looked up into his eyes.

"If I thought for a moment that you'd be an albatross around our necks on this mission," she said bluntly, "I'd pull my wand out right now and place a Memory Charm on you, making you forget everything about the Horcruxes. You'd think this was just another school year, and when it was done, Harry and I would just vanish with no one the wiser, including you. Keep that in mind this year when I'm working you to within an inch of your sanity, teaching you all those spells I'll be learning from Harry. If I thought you'd do something stupid that would get any of us killed, I'd send you packing straightaway. Because I have no intention of risking my life or Harry's on a bloke who'll do a runner when we're up against it, or freeze up and use the wrong spell in a critical moment - "

Hermione went silent, and Harry saw a ghostly shadow behind her eyes that lasted only a moment before it vanished. He didn't think Ron noticed, for the tall redhead was standing with his head bowed, his eyes staring down between his oversized feet. When he lifted his head just enough to fix Hermione's eyes with his, Harry was surprised to hear a soft chuckle catch in the back of his throat.

"You could still do that, you know," Ron grinned thinly. "I mean, that's the beauty of Memory Charms, innit? You tell a bloke you're going to modify his memory, and quick as you do it, he won't know you did it, so he can't say anything about it after. That's what Lockhart was going to do to Harry and me in the Chamber of Secrets, you know. He told us straight out what he intended, knowing that once the spell was engaged, we wouldn't remember he'd even said it, much less done it. If he hadn't been using my old wand..." Ron shook his head, and his smile widened. "What did you ever see in that git, anyway?"

"Well, you know," Hermione said, rolling her eyes for effect as Harry hid a smile. "He was a bit of a charmer, wasn't he? That dazzling smile, and all that wavy blond hair - bloody hell, but I just wanted to take off my shoes and run barefoot through that hair!"

Ron laughed out loud, and Hermione slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"We've shared a lot, haven't we?" she said. "All of us."

"At least you remember what you've been through," said a new voice suddenly.

Everyone turned toward Ginny, whom they had forgotten was in the room with them. She was wearing a razor-line smile, and her brown eyes were clouded, as by dark visions hovering just behind them.

"I don't remember most of my first year at Hogwarts," Ginny said. "Still, knowing what I do now, I suppose I'm better off not remembering."

"I wish I could forget those bloody acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest," Ron said with a pronounced shudder. "And the basilisk nearly did in both Harry and Hermione. I don't know what I'd have done if - "

A ghost of inexpressible anguish flickered behind Ron's eyes as they dropped meaningfully onto the witch pressing so close to him. Harry remembered how devastated Ron had been upon learning that Hermione was hovering on the edge of death as a result of her encounter with the basilisk. Looking back, he saw clearly that this marked the beginning of Ron's fancy for Hermione. As if to validate this, Ron unconsciously tightened his arms around Hermione for a heartbeat, his face brushing the top of her bushy head, before releasing her and stepping back, his ears going slightly pink.

"We've all been through a lot," Hermione agreed as she smoothly detached herself from Ron and stood next to Harry, who now slipped his arm around her protectively in much the same manner as Ron had done. "More than we'd all care to remember."

"I haven't seen or done as much as you all have," Ginny said. "All I know is, I've experienced more than I wish I had done. No one else in the family has had adventures like ours, have they? You ask Bill or Charlie or Percy about their school days, they'll just shrug and tell you it wasn't anything to send an owl off so Mum and Dad could enter it in the family album. Even Fred and George had a pretty normal time of it, or as normal as those two could have managed, being as they're both borderline mental."

Everyone laughed, but Ginny only smiled.

"The common denominator seems to be you, Harry. Everyone who falls into your circle of friends seems to become a magnet for odd and dangerous things."

"That's what you get when you hang about with a bloke with a scar on his head," Harry said, "and a Dark wizard trying to do him in fortnightly."

"I want to go along," Ginny said abruptly, all levity vanished from her aspect. "I think I've earned the right. I mean, it's like I said before - if I think I can be a real help, and not put everyone's life at risk by my presence, I think I should be allowed to come with you. Only I have as much reason to hate You-Know-Who as Harry has. Can you two say the same?"

Ron's face was screwed up now, as if a war were going on inside his head. When his features relaxed a moment later, everyone waited expectantly to learn the outcome of that inner conflict.

"I don't want you to go," he said flatly. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were back here where it's safe, finishing your last year of school. But..." Ron let out a deep sigh. "Even if you stay behind, that's no guarantee you'll be safe, is it? Hogwarts was attacked less than a month ago by bleedin' Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake. And I reckon everyone in You-Know-Who's circle knows that the Order of the Phoenix is the next ruddy thing to a Weasley family gathering. I dunno if there's anywhere any of us can be safe, short of renting one of the underground vaults at Gringotts and converting it into a flat.

"And you're right about something else," Ron said. "You-Know-Who never tried to do in me or Hermione. We're going along mostly because Harry's our mate, and that's what being a mate is all about. But that's not to say I don't have another reason, too. It's the same as yours. That bloody bastard nearly killed my little sister. I'm not about to stand around and let him put someone else through what I felt when I thought I'd never see you again. And if that gives me the right to go along with Harry, then I don't see how I can deny you the same thing."

"Are you saying that you support my decision?" Ginny said unbelievingly.

"Not exactly," Ron said. "I guess what I'm saying is that it's not up to me to vote either way. When you come down to it, this is Harry's mission. He's the one who has to fulfill Trelawney's ruddy prophesy. I don't think he has a choice any more. Maybe he never did." Ron gave a small, almost helpless shrug. "Hermione and I may have pressured Harry into taking us along, maybe even threatened him a bit, but when it's all done, it's his decision, and we respect that, just as he respects our decision not to let him go off on his own. Yeah, I know, it sounds all bollocksed up, but that's about right for us, innit? I mean, when your best mate is Harry Potter, I suppose you have to expect things to go arse over broomstick now and then. I reckon the time to worry is when things look like they're going smoothly, because that's usually a sign that the roof's about to fall down around our ears." Ron grinned at his unwitting reference to the disaster his friends' intervention had only just prevented. "Anyway," he shrugged again, "like I said, this is Harry's show. It's down to him who comes along and who doesn't. I can have my say, but in the end..."

As Ron's voice trailed off, he took his eyes from Ginny's and shifted his gaze toward Harry, which action was more conclusive than any summation he could have uttered. Everyone was now looking expectantly at Harry, but none more keenly than Ginny.

"Harry?" she said.

Harry surprised no one more than himself when he regarded Ginny tranquilly, unconsciously peering at her over the rims of his glasses, as Dumbledore had done to him so many times.

"I haven't changed my mind about anything," he said. "I'm going off, and Ron and Hermione are coming along, because I know there's nothing I can do to stop them short of Petrifying them and chucking them down the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in Moaning Myrtle's loo." Ron and Hermione both smiled. "And if you decide to come along after you're of age, I reckon you will, and that's that. But that's not what you asked, is it?"

"No," Ginny said. "What I want to know is, do you want me to come along?

"I can't answer that now," Harry said. "There are too many other questions wanting answers yet. You've said you won't ask to come unless you feel you're ready. At this point, I don't even know if I'll be ready. But ready or not, I'm going, because I can't do anything else. We found out last month at Hogwarts that no place is safe from Voldemort. The only place I was really safe was at the Dursleys, but with Dumbledore's spell set to expire on my birthday, that's all done. So if I go off now, I'm no worse off than I was before. I'm a bit better, actually, because the more I move about, the harder it'll be for Voldemort to find me. And if he never suspects that I'm after his Horcruxes, wherever they are will literally be the last place he'd ever think to look for me.

"I still don't plan on setting off until next year, of course. But when I've learnt all I can at Hogwarts, I can't wait any longer, because the longer I hang about, the more people will suffer and die because of Voldemort. And," Harry said, his voice catching slightly, "I have to work as hard as I can to make sure that no one else dies because of me. As Ron said, this is my mission, my destiny. Anyone who comes along is going to become a target for Voldemort. It's like they'll be wearing signs around their necks that read, 'I'm Harry Potter's friend. Kill me and make him suffer.' If anything happens to them, it'll be on my head for the rest of my life, which, when you think about it, might not be all that long if Voldemort gets his wish. Ron and Hermione can say all they want, but that's how I feel."

"It works both ways, you know," Ginny said. "If you die while the rest of us live, how do you think we'll feel? Why do you think Ron and Hermione wouldn't let you go off alone? Why - why do you think I want to come along? It's not just to pay back You-Know-Who for trying to kill me. It's for all the times he's tried to kill you."

"I know," Harry said. "I've always known."

"Then how can you ask me to stay behind?" Ginny pleaded softly.

"I'm not," Harry said. Ron and Hermione both started slightly. Ginny's face began to glow.

"Does that mean you'll let me come with you?"

"I already told you, that isn't my decision," Harry said. "It's yours."

"But," Ginny said, "I don't want to come along unless..."

Harry smiled, and Ginny's eyes fell away.

"You said from the start that you wouldn't ask to come along if you didn't feel you were ready," Harry said. "I took you at your word then, and I still do. I'm trusting that you'll make the right decision, not just for yourself, but for all of us.

"When I was set to go off straightaway to find Voldemort's Horcruxes, I made that decision for all the wrong reasons. Ron and Hermione knew it was wrong, but rather than try to talk me out of it, which they knew they couldn't have done, they made the only decision they could and told me they were coming along. They must have reckoned if I was stupid enough to go off without proper training and get myself killed, it was their job to keep me alive any way they could - even at the cost of their own lives. A bloke's lucky to have one friend like that in his life, much less two."

Ron was too embarrassed to look at Harry, especially after the cataclysm that Harry had only just prevented right where they were standing, but focused once more on a spot on the floor between his feet. Hermione's eyes never wavered. She smiled warmly at Harry, who returned the gesture before turning back to Ginny.

"Thanks to Dumbledore," he said, "I changed my earlier decision for a new one, a better one. Dumbledore told me at the start that it's our choices that determine our lives more than our abilities. Some of the choices I've made along the way weren't the best I could have done. The two smartest choices I ever made are here in this room." Harry paused, sighing painfully. "Malfoy told me on the Hogwarts Express that I should take care choosing my friends. It's the only good advice he ever gave me, though I didn't exactly take it the way he intended." Harry smiled at Hermione again. Ron looked up, his ears going pink, and grinned. "I've made other choices since then," Harry said, "some good, some horrible. But thanks to Ron and Hermione, the second lot never managed to add up as badly as they might have done."

Harry walked over to Ginny and peered directly into her eyes. She looked for a moment as if she wanted to turn away, but, perhaps drawing on reserves she hadn't suspected, she squared her shoulders and held her gaze fast on Harry's.

"This is going to be a year of decision for all of us," Harry said. "I made maybe the most important one of my life when I decided to come back for my final year at Hogwarts. You have a similar decision to make. But before you do, you might want to look at my example. Ron and Hermione thought I was an idiot to go off as I planned - they never actually said that, but I know it's what they were thinking. Dumbledore agreed with them. What do you think? Should I have gone straight off after Bill and Fleur's wedding, as I intended? Should I go down right now and write a letter to Professor McGonagall, telling her I've changed my mind again, that I'm going off straightaway like I planned all along?"

"No," Ginny said quietly. "You should stay."

"Why?" Harry asked softly. "Because it's the best thing for me? Or for you?"

Ginny hesitated for a moment, then looked straight at Harry. "For you," she said unflinchingly. "Dumbledore's right, you'll have a much better chance against You-Know-Who if you finish school before you go off."

"If that's true about me," Harry said, "what about you? Will you be ready to follow the three of us, having stayed at Hogwarts only six years?"

Ginny's eyes fell away from Harry's. He took her hands in his, bringing a blush to her freckled cheeks.

"When you turn sixteen next month," Harry said, "that'll still leave you a year shy of legal age. You said it yourself, if you go off before you're of age, your dad will go straight to the head of the Magical Law Enforcement division and have you back here so fast - " Harry's eyes flickered toward Hermione for a heartbeat before turning back to Ginny again. "So fast you'll think your knickers have been turned into a portkey."

Though Ginny's head remained downcast, Harry saw her cheeks draw back in a smile.

"We have a whole school year ahead of us," Harry said. "It seems like a long time, but it'll be over before we know it. When it's done and you've turned seventeen, you'll have a decision to make, just like I made mine this year. Between now and then, you'll have a lot of thinking to do. But it's not a decision you'll have to make alone. Merlin knows I couldn't have managed everything I've been through without these two. No matter how bad things got, they were always there for me."

From the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw Ron cringe slightly, almost as if at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"Now," he said to Ginny, "it's time for all of us to be here for you. If there's ever anything you need - if there's ever a time when you feel the pressure building inside you until you expect your head will explode - don't hesitate to come straight to one of us. Don't make the mistake of keeping it bottled up inside until it starts to eat you up, like a certain bloke I could name who's standing right in front of you."

Ginny laughed gently, though she still did not look up. Harry squeezed her hands again.

"Hermione once told me that answers aren't as difficult to find as we think. They're all around us, just waiting for us to spot them properly. The real trick is to ask the right questions. That's what you have to do this year. You have to think of the questions that will allow you see the answers that are right in front of you. That's something no one else can do for you. It takes complete honesty, because the one person none of us can lie to is ourselves. When you can finally do that, you'll be able to match up the questions with the answers. And when you can see everything properly at last, those questions and answers will lead you to the right decisions, not just for you, but for everyone."

Lifting her head at last, Ginny looked at Harry and said, "And what happens after I've made my decision?"

"We'll respect it," Harry said. "Right, Ron?"

Ron nodded, if somewhat reluctantly, and Harry saw Hermione grinning.

"And you'll take me along a year from now if I ask you?" Ginny said, unable to mask the hope in her voice, nor in her eyes.

"Something else Hermione once told me is that it's pointless to answer a question until it's been asked properly," Harry said. "That question is still a year from the asking. But I promise that, when you do ask it, I'll give you an answer based on facts alone. Feelings won't enter into it." Harry shot Ron another swift look before recapturing Ginny's eyes. "I hope that's answer enough for now."

"It is," Ginny said. Slipping her hands from his, she hugged him around the middle. She stepped back almost at once, as Ron had done with Hermione, her cheeks as pink as Ron's ears had been, and nearly bumped into the table. Harry and Hermione laughed, and even Ron smiled.

The tense atmosphere in the room relaxed. Hermione eased over to Harry and leaned close, a secret smile playing over her face.

"'So fast you'll think your knickers were turned into a portkey?'" she said, lifting a curved eyebrow. "That sounds strangely familiar."

"I must have heard it somewhere," Harry said, keeping a straight face with an effort.

Ginny was slowly drifting around the perimeter of the table she'd nearly collided with, whereon lay the book Ron had been reading. In slamming the book down, Harry had bent the page that had been the object of Ron's scrutiny, creating a bulge marking its location. Ginny opened the book, and it immediately fell open to the injured page as if guided by an invisible hand. She placed a finger on the surface of the page, pressing it down flat as her manicured nail idly traced the faded words that had nearly spelt the end of the Burrow in horrific fashion. The page sprang up again when she withdrew her hand, as if announcing that it was not to be dismissed so lightly. Ginny turned toward Harry, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. He answered the question in her eyes before the words reached her lips.

"No, I can't teach you anything from that book," he smiled. "It's strictly forbidden to anyone under seventh year. The rest of us are technically of age to learn those spells - or nearly, in my case - but even then, there are some I won't be allowed teach Ron and Hermione. Of course, just because I'm forbidden to teach Hermione certain spells," Harry said with a meaningful glance at Hermione, "that's not to say she might not learn them on her own just by observing me practicing them. I mean, no one taught her the Protean Charm in our fifth year, did they? Or that hex she put on the D.A. parchment around the same time. And we know Snape never taught her how to brew Polyjuice Potion, which students aren't supposed to learn until their sixth year. Some people just never manage to grasp the importance of following rules, do they?"

Hermione grinned, her cheeks going Weasley-pink, and Ron and Ginny both laughed.

"And by the same measure," Harry said, "If Ron hangs about and sees Hermione doing some spells she isn't supposed to know - spells she picked up from a scar-headed wizard who shall remain nameless (everyone laughed again) - and if he pays close attention and copies her, well, that's not my lookout, is it?

"But," Harry said sharply, turning back to Ginny, "if I'd followed my original plan to go after Voldemort straightaway, I'd never have had that book to learn all those spells from, would I? The three of us would have gone off armed with only six years of learning - and even if Hermione had picked up a few things she wasn't supposed to know until this year, that still wouldn't make up for what we'll all be learning by hanging about for our last year. The Auror classes I'm taking might make the difference not just between success and failure, but life and death.

"Just a minute ago," Harry said, his voice softening as his eyes transfixed Ginny's, "you said I needed to finish my seventh year if I was to be properly trained. If that's true for me, it's just as true for Ron and Hermione - and for you. Even if you get the highest marks in the school this year, that'll still leave you knowing about as much magic as I know right now. And if you say I'm not ready to go off now, it'll be the same for you next year, won't it?"

"You're using my own words against me," Ginny protested, her lips pursed petulantly.

"I told you that being honest with yourself was the first step," Harry reminded Ginny. "I think you just learnt your first lesson this year. Remind me to add ten points to Gryffindor's hourglass quick as we get back. The Head Boy can do that, so I've been told," he said, winking at Hermione.

Harry walked over to the table and closed the book, which still bulged meaningfully at the point of the bent page, a permanent reminder of all that had happened in this room in the eternity of the preceding minutes - and, more significantly, all that might have happened, but had not. Ginny remained silent, but when Harry smiled at her over his shoulder, she smiled back without reproach.

"Blimey," Ron said suddenly, looking at his watch, "I had no idea it was this late. We're due for lunch." Placing a hand over his stomach, he opined, "Too much excitement makes a bloke come over all peckish." Turning to Ginny, he asked, "Are Mum and Dad back from their walkabout yet?"

"I haven't seen them since they left this morning," Ginny said. "How about you two?" she asked Harry and Hermione. "You were out walking in the country, weren't you? Did you see any sign of Mum and Dad."

Trying not to smile at each other, Harry and Hermione shook their heads in reply.

"Didn't see a thing," Harry said truthfully, grateful that Ginny had not asked if he and Hermione had heard anything.

"Well," Ginny shrugged, "we can whip something up ourselves, I suppose. I'm sure I can remember some of the spells Mum's been showing me over the past few Summers."

"But you're not allowed to do food magic," Ron reminded her.

"No," Ginny smiled, "but you are."

"Me?" Ron said. "I've never prepared a meal in my life!"

"No worries," Ginny said. "We'll just follow Harry's example."

"What example?" Harry said.

"Just like what you're planning with the spells in that book," Ginny nodded toward the table, "where Hermione watches and learns."

"Brilliant," Hermione said delightedly. "You can show Ron how to do everything, the way your mum showed you, and Ron will cast the actual spells."

"Right," Ginny said.

"I want to pay close attention myself," Hermione said. "I've neglected household magic shamefully, and now that we're all only a year away from going off on our own, it's about time I learnt a few food preparation spells. We can hardly go off and fight Death Eaters if we're starving, can we?"

"Well, then," Ron said as they moved toward the door, "if Hermione's going to do the spells, I don't - "

"Have you forgotten what we talked about in the kitchen?" Harry prompted. Ron's shoulders slumped, and Harry said, "You can't depend on someone else to keep you fed, mate."

"Especially the way he eats," Ginny added with a smile.

They made their way downstairs, Ginny shouldering the broom she had borrowed from the shed. It was the broom Charlie had flown at Hogwarts, Ginny explained (not knowing that Harry had already been told). He had flown it all through his years as Gryffindor's star Seeker, helping his House to win its last Quidditch Cup before Harry came along to break the intervening string of Slytherin championships. Being so old now (it had been purchased second-hand when Charlie made the team in his third year), it wasn't as good as the school brooms used by the current Gryffindor team, but it gave Ginny confidence, she said, to fly a broom that had participated in so many triumphs. Harry couldn't argue. Confidence was not to be dismissed as a tool to achieve victory, and as Gryffindor had won the Cup both years of Ginny's tenure as starting Chaser (as well as back-up Seeker), Harry was sure that Charlie would be pleased to know that his old broom was still winning championships after a fashion, as it had done in his playing days.

The group had no sooner entered the kitchen when the back door opened and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked in. The four young wizards gasped in surprise. Mrs. Weasley's hair was tossed about, and there were bits of leaves and twigs mixed into its fiery tresses. Mr. Weasley had very little hair to muss, but his robes were in slight disarray, in this fashion differing little from those of his wife.

"Mum?" Ginny said. "Dad?"

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Weasley replied in a high, slightly flustered voice.

"Where have you two been? You look like you've been dragged behind a charging hippogriff. And what's happened to your robes?"

It was then that Harry noticed something that Hermione (judging from the amusement shining in her eyes) had apparently spotted straightaway. Mr. Weasley's robes were more than rumpled; they had been put on back to front. Not wanting the Weasleys to see his growing smile, Harry turned away, only to get a straight-on look at Ron, whose face looked as if he had just drunk a goblet of Polyjuice Potion in one swallow. Ron's eyes were widening by the moment in what could only be described as a look of rampant horror such as he hadn't worn since his last trip into the Forbidden Forest. He saw Harry looking his way, and his eyes immediately flashed his mate a silent, desperate entreaty to disabuse him of the notion that was causing his horrified mien. Harry tried to say something, but all he could manage was to smile even more broadly. Ron's mouth fell open.

"Come on," Harry whispered to Hermione, taking her by the arm. "If you thought the house nearly fell down before..."

Hermione nodded, allowing Harry to steer her out the door. At the last moment, Harry took the broom from Ginny's numb fingers. Her hand remained frozen in mid-air, which, paired with her stunned expression that was a mirror image of Ron's, made her look like she had been Petrified by a basilisk. Harry quickly followed Hermione outside, careful to ease the door closed behind him. When Harry entered the shed to replace Charlie's broom, Hermione followed him inside and closed the door. They looked at each other for a moment in the dim light, then proceeded to fall into gales of unrestrained laughter, hoping that the shed's thin walls would somehow manage to keep the sound from reaching the kitchen.

Hermione said it best. The road of love is never smooth. I'm making that road as bumpy as I can, along with adding a few blind curves along the way. By fully acknowledging the emotional ties binding the foursome, I hope to eliminate the easy road of a completely frictionless relationship. The destination is no less certain - H/Hr all the way - but, as Hermione said, if it was easy, it wouldn't be worth the bother. Never fear. When I'm done, all doubt will have been removed.

Now I have to get to work on the next chapter, which, praise Merlin, is shorter than this one. Let's see if I can get it up in two days. At least it shouldn't have as many mistakes to correct. Wish me luck.